Village of San Jose.--Thatched Church.--The Cura--A refractory
Indian.--Attachment of the Indians.--Journey to Mani.--The
Sierra.--Hacienda of Santa Maria.--A ruined Mound.--Good Road.--Arrival
at the City of Tekax.--A bloodless Revolution.--Situation and
Appearance of the City.--An interesting Meeting.--Curiosity of the
People.--Akil.--The Site of a ruined City:--Sculptured Stones.--Journey
resumed.--Arrival at Mani.--Historical Notice.--Tutul Xiu.--Embassy to
the Lords of Zotuta.--Ambassadors murdered.--Mani the first interior
Town that submitted to the Spaniards.--Scanty Supply of Water
throughout the Country.--Important Consideration.--A touching
Discovery.
March 5. Early the next morning we set out for the ruins of San Jose. At
seven o'clock we reached the pueblocito, or little village, of that
name, pleasantly situated between a range of hills and a sierra,
containing about two hundred inhabitants, among whom, as we rode into
the plaza, we saw several white men. At the casa real we found a
cacique of respectable appearance, who told us that there were no "old
walls" in that village, which report of his, other Indians standing
round confirmed. We were not much disappointed, nor at all anxious to
find anything that would make it necessary to change our plans; to lose
no time, we determined to push on to Mani, eight leagues distant, and
applied for an Indian to carry our hammocks, which the cacique
undertook to provide.
On the opposite side of the square was a thatched church, the bell of
which was tolling for morning mass, and before the door was a group of
men, surrounding a portly old gentleman in a round jacket, who I knew
must be the padre. They all confirmed the accounts we had received at
the casa real, that there were no ruins; but the cura, enforcing his
words with an Ave Maria, said that at Ticum, the head of his curacy,
there were bastante, or enough of them. He intended to return
immediately after mass, and wanted us to go with him to see them, and
write a description of them. I felt a strong disposition to do so, if
it was only to pass a day with him at the convent; but, on inquiring, I
learned that the "old walls" were entirely in ruins; they had
furnished materials for that church and convent, and all the stone
houses of the village.
While this was going on at the door of the church, an Indian sexton was
pulling lustily at the bell-rope, ringing for mass, and, as if
indignant that his warning was not attended to, he made it so deafening
that it was really a labour for us to hear each other. The cura seemed
in no hurry, but I had some scruples about keeping the congregation
waiting, and returned to the casa real.
Here a scene had just taken place, of which nothing but the noise of
the bell prevented my having some previous knowledge. The cacique had
sent for an Indian to carry our load, but the latter refused to obey,
and was insolent to the cacique, who in a rage, ordered him to be put
into the stocks. When I entered, the recusant, sullen and silent, was
waiting the execution of his sentence, and in a few minutes he was
lying on his back on the ground, with both legs secured in the stocks
above his knees. The cacique sent for another, and in the mean time an
old woman came in with a roll of tortillas, and a piteous expression of
face. She was the mother of the prisoner, and took her seat on the
stocks to remain with him and comfort him; and, as the man rolled his
head on the ground, and the woman looked wonderingly at us, we
reproached ourselves as the cause of his disaster, and endeavoured to
procure his release, but the cacique would not listen to us. He said
that the man was punished, not for refusing to go with us, although
bound to do so on account of indebtedness to the village but for
insolence to himself. He was evidently one who would not allow his
authority to be trifled with; and seeing that, without helping the
Indian, we might lose the benefit of the cacique's good dispositions in
our favour, we were fain to desist. At length, though evidently with
some difficulty, he procured another Indian. As we mounted, we made a
final effort in behalf of the poor fellow in the stocks; and, though
apparently unable to comprehend why we should take any interest in the
matter, the cacique promised to release him.
This over, we found that we had thrown another family into confusion.
The wife and a little daughter of our carrier accompanied him to the
top of a hill beyond the village, where they bade him farewell as if he
was setting out on a long and dangerous journey. The attachment of the
Indian to his home is a striking feature of his character. The
affection which grows up between the sexes was supposed by the early
writers upon the character of the Indians not to exist among them, and
probably the sentiment and refinement of it do not; but circumstances
and habit bind together the Indian man and woman as strongly as any
known ties. When the Indian grows up to manhood he requires a woman to
make him tortillas, and to provide him warm water for his bath at
night. He procures one, sometimes by the providence of the master,
without much regard to similarity of tastes or parity of age; and
though a young man is mated to an old woman, they live comfortably
together. If he finds her guilty of any great offence, he brings her up
before the master or the alcalde, gets her a whipping and then takes
her under his arm and goes quietly home with her. The Indian husband is
rarely harsh to his wife, and the devotion of the wife to her husband
is always a subject of remark. They share their pleasures as well as
their labours; go up together with all their children to some village
fiesta, and one of the most afflicting incidents in their lot is a
necessity that takes the husband from his home.
In the suburbs of the village we commenced ascending the sierra, from
the top of which we saw at the foot the hacienda of Santa Maria. Behind
it rose a high mound, surrounded by trees indicating that here too were
the ruins of an ancient city.
Descending the sierra, we rode up to the hacienda, and saw three
gentlemen sitting under a shed breakfasting. One of them had on a fur
hat, a mark of civilization which we had not seen for a long time; an
indication that he was from the city of Tekax, and had merely come out
for a morning ride.
The proprietor came out to receive us, and, pointing to the mound, we
made some inquiry about the building, but he did not comprehend us,
and, supposing that we meant some old ranchos in that direction, said
that they were for the servants. Albino explained that we were
travelling over the country in search of ruins, and the gentleman
looked at him perhaps somewhat as the inn-keeper looked at Sancho Panza
when he explained that his master was a knight-errant travelling to
redress grievances. We succeeded, however, in coming to an
understanding about the mound, and the master told us that he had never
been to it; that there was no path; that if we attempted to go to it we
should be eaten up by garrapatas, and he called some Indians, who said
that it was entirely in ruins. This was satisfactory, for the idea of
being loaded with garrapatas to carry about till night had almost made
me recoil. At the same time, the other gentlemen told us of other ruins
at a league's distance from Tekax, on the hacienda of Senor Calera. I
felt strongly disposed to turn off and visit the latter, but our
carrier had gone on, and the little difficulties of overtaking him,
procuring another for a change of route, and perhaps losing a day, were
now serious objections; besides, there was no end to the ruins.
Leaving the hacienda, we entered, with a satisfaction that can hardly
be described, upon a broad road for carretas and calesas. We had
emerged from the narrow and tangled path of milpas and ranchos, and
were once more on a camino real. We had accomplished a journey which we
were assured, on setting out, was impracticable; and now we were coming
upon the finest portion of the state, famed for its rich sugar
plantations. We met heavy, lumbering vehicles drawn by oxen and horses,
carrying sugar from the haciendas. Very soon we reached Tekax, one of
the four places in Yucatan bearing the name of a city, and I must
confess that I felt some degree of excitement. Throughout Yucatan our
journey had been so quiet, so free from danger or interruption of any
kind, that, after my Central American experience, it seemed unnatural.
Yucatan was in a state of open rebellion against Mexico; we had heard
of negotiations, but there had been no tumult, confusion, or bloodshed.
Tekax alone had broken the general stillness, and while the rest of the
country was perfectly quiet, this interior city had got up a small
revolution on its own account, and for the benefit of whom it might
concern.
According to the current reports, this revolution was got up by three
patriotic individuals, whose names, unfortunately, I have lost. They
belonged to the party called Los Independientes, in favour of declaring
independence of Mexico. The elections had gone against their party, and
alcaldes in favour of a reannexation to Mexico were installed in
office. In the mean time commissioners arrived from Santa Ana to
negotiate with the government of Yucatan, urging it not to make any
open declaration but to continue quietly in its state of independence
de facto until the internal difficulties of Mexico were settled, when
its complaints would be attended to and its grievances redressed.
Afraid of the influence which these commissioners might exercise, the
three patriots of Tekax resolved to strike for liberty, went round
among the ranches of the sierra, and collected a band of more than
half-naked Indians, who, armed with machetes, a few old muskets, and
those primitive weapons with which David slew Goliath, descended upon
Tekax, and, to the great alarm of the women and children, took
possession of the plaza, set up the figure of Santa Ana, pelted him
with stones, put some bullets into him, burned him to ashes, and
shouted "Viva la independencia." But few of them had ever heard of
Santa Ana, but this was no reason why they should not pelt him with
stones and burn him in effigy. They knew nothing of the relations
between Yucatan and Mexico, and by the cry of independencia they meant
a release from tribute to the government and debts to masters. With but
little practice in revolutions, they made a fair start by turning out
the alcaldes and levying contributions upon political opponents, and
threw out the formidable threat that they would march three hundred men
against the capital, and compel a declaration of independence.
Intelligence of these movements soon reached Merida, and fearful
menaces of war were bandied from one city to the other. Each waited for
the other to make the first demonstration, but at length the capital
sent forth its army, which leached Ticul the day after I left at the
conclusion of my first visit, and while Doctor Cabot was still there.
It was then within one day's march of the seat of rebellion, but halted
to rest, and to let the moral effect of its approach go on before. The
reader has perhaps never before heard of Tekax; nevertheless, a year
has not elapsed since the patriotic, half-naked band in arms for
independence thought that the eyes of the whole world were upon them.
In three days the regular army resumed its march, with cannon in front,
colours flying, drums beating, and the women of Ticul laughing, sure
that there would be no bloodshed. The same day it reached Tekax, and
the next morning, instead of falling upon each other like so many wild
beasts, the officers and the three patriot leaders were seen walking
arm in arm together in the plaza. The former promised good offices to
their new friends, two reales apiece to the Indians, and the revolution
was crushed. All dispersed, ready to take up arms again upon the same
terms whenever their country's good should so require.
Such were the accounts we had received, always coupled with sweeping
denunciations of the population of Tekax as revolutionary and radical,
and the rabble of Yucatan. Having somewhat of a leaning to revolutions
in the abstract, I was happy to find that, with such a bad reputation,
its appearance was finer, and more promising than that of any town I
had seen, and I could not but think it would be well for Yucatan if
many of her dead-and-alive villages had more such rabble.
The city stands at the foot of the sierra. Riding up the street, we had
in full view the church of La Hermita, with a broad flight of stone
steps scaling the side of the mountain. The streets were wide, the
houses large and in fine order, and one had three stories, with
balconies overhanging the street; and there was an appearance of life
and business which, coming as we did from Indian ranches, and so long
away from anything that looked like a city and the comforts and
elegances of living, was really exciting.
As we rode along a gay calesa approached us, occupied by a gentleman
and lady, well dressed and handsome, and, to our surprise, in the lady
we recognised the fair subject upon whom we had begun business as
Daguerreotype portrait takers, and whose gift of a cake had penetrated
the very leather of my saddle-bags. A few short weeks had made a great
change in her condition; she was now riding by the side of her lawful
proprietor. We attempted, by the courtesy of our salute, to withdraw
attention from our wearing apparel. Unluckily, Doctor Cabot's sombrero
was tied under his chin, so that he could not get it off. Mine, with
one of the strings carried away, described a circle in the air, and, as
the doctor maliciously said, disappeared under my horse. The gentleman
nodded condescendingly, but it was flattering ourselves to believe that
the lady took any notice of us whatever.
But though old friends forgot us, we were not unnoticed by the citizens
of Tekax. As we rode along all eyes were turned upon us. We stopped in
the plaza, which, with its great church and the buildings around it,
was the finest we had seen in the country, and all the people ran out
to the corridors to gaze at us. It was an unprecedented thing for
strangers to pass through this place. European saddles, holsters, and
arms were strange, and, including Albino, we made the cabalistic number
of three which got up the late revolution. Knowing the curiosity we
excited, and that all were anxious to speak to us, without dismounting
or exchanging a word with an inhabitant, we passed through the plaza
and continued our journey. The people were bewildered, as if the ragged
tail of a comet had passed over their heads; and afterward, at a
distant village, we heard the report that we had passed through Tekax
_vestidos como Moros_, or dressed like Moors. The good people, having
never seen a Moor, and not being very familiar with Moorish costume,
had taken our blouzes for such. The strange guise in which we appeared
to them alleviated somewhat the mortification of not being recognised
by the fair lady of Merida.
Our road lay for some distance along the sierra. It was broad, open,
and the sun beat fiercely upon us. At half past ten we reached Akil,
and rode up to the casa real. At the door was a stone hollowed out like
those often before referred to, called pilas. In the steps and
foundation were sculptured stones from ruined mounds in the immediate
neighbourhood, and the road along the yard of the church ran through a
mound, leaving part on each side, and the excavated mass forming on one
side the wall of the convent yard. The rest of the wall, the church,
and the convent were built with stones from the ancient buildings. We
were on the site of another ruined city, of which we had never heard,
and might never have known, but for the telltale memorials at the door
of the casa real.
At a quarter before three we resumed our journey. The sun was still
very hot; the road was straight, stony, and uninteresting, a great part
of the way through overgrown milpas. At half past five we reached Mani,
again finding over the door and along the sides of the casa real
sculptured stones, some of them of new and curious designs; in one
compartment was a seated figure, with what might seem a crown and
sceptre, and the figures of the sun and moon on either side of his
head, curious and interesting in themselves, independent of the
admonition that we were again on the site of an aboriginal city.
In all our journey through this country there were no associations. Day
after day we rode into places unknown beyond the boundaries of Yucatan,
with no history attached to them, and touching no chord of feeling.
Mani, however, rises above the rest, and, compared with the profound
obscurity or the dim twilight in which other places are enveloped, its
history is plainly written.
When the haughty caciques of Maya rebelled against the supreme lord,
and destroyed the city of Mayapan, the reigning monarch was left with
only the territory of Mani, the people of which had not joined in the
rebellion. Here, reduced in power to the level of the other caciques,
the race of the ancient lords of Maya ruled undisturbed until the time
of the Spanish invasion; but the shadow of the throne rested over it;
it was consecrated in the affections of the Indians, and long after the
conquest it bore the proud name of la Corona real de Mani.
It has been mentioned that on their arrival at Tihoo the Spaniards
encamped on a cerro, or mound, which stood on the site now occupied by
the plaza of Merida. While in this position, surrounded by hostile
Indians, their supplies cut off and straitened for provisions, one day
the scouts brought intelligence to Don Francisco Montejo of a great
body of Indians, apparently warlike, advancing toward them. From the
top of the cerro they discovered the multitude, and among them one
borne on the shoulders of men, as if extended on a bier. Supposing that
a battle was certain, the Spaniards recommended themselves to God, the
chaplain held up a holy cross, and, prostrating themselves before it,
they took up their arms. As the Indians drew near to the cerro, they
lowered to the ground the person whom they carried on their shoulders,
who approached alone, threw down his bow and arrow, and, raising both
hands, made a signal that he came in peace. Immediately all the Indians
laid their bows and arrows on the ground, and, touching their fingers
to the earth, kissed them, also in token of good-will.
The chief advanced to the foot of the mound and began to ascend it. Don
Francisco stepped forward to meet him, and the Indian made him a
profound reverence; Don Francisco received him with cordiality, and,
taking him by the hand, conducted him to his quarters.
This Indian was Tutul Xiu, the greatest lord in all that country, the
lineal descendant of the royal house which once ruled over the whole
land of Maya, and then cacique of Mani. He said that, moved by the
valour and perseverance of the Spaniards, he had come voluntarily to
render obedience, and to offer his aid and that of his subjects for the
pacification of the rest; and he brought a large present of turkeys,
fruits, and other provisions. He had come to be their friend; he
desired, also, to be a Christian, and asked the adelantado to go
through some Christian ceremonies. The latter made a most solemn
adoration to the holy cross, and Tutul Xiu, watching attentively,
imitated the Spaniard as well as he could until, with many
demonstrations of joy, he came to kiss the cross on his knees. The
Spaniards were delighted, and, the adoration over, they remarked that
this fortunate day for them was that of the glorious San Ildefonso,
whom they immediately elected for their patron saint.
Tutul Xiu was accompanied by other caciques, whose names, as found in
an Indian manuscript, have been handed down. They remained with the
Spaniards seventy days, and on taking leave, Tutul Xiu promised to send
ambassadors to solicit the other chiefs, though they were not his
vassals, to render obedience to the Spaniards; when, leaving them a
great supply of provisions and many Indian servants, he returned to
Mani.
He convoked all his Indians, and gave them notice of his intentions,
and of the agreement he had made with the Spaniards; to which they all
assented.
Afterward he despatched the caciques who went with him to render
submission to the Spaniards, as ambassadors to the Lords of Zotuta,
called the Cocomes, and the other nations to the east as far as the
region where now stands the city of Valladolid, making known to them
his resolution, and the friendship he had contracted with the
Spaniards, and beseeching them to do the same; representing that the
Spaniards were determined to remain in the land, had established
themselves in Campeachy, and were preparing to do so in Tihoo;
reminding them how many battles they had fought, and how many lives of
the natives had been lost; and informing them that he had experienced
from the Spaniards while he remained with them good-will, and that he
held it better for all his countrymen to follow his example,
considering the dangers of the opposite course.
The ambassadors proceeded to the district of Zotuta, and made known
their embassy to Nachi Cocom, the principal lord of that territory. The
latter requested them to wait four or five days for their answer, and
in the mean time convoked all his dependant caciques, who, in concert
with this chief, determined to make a great wild-boar hunt, ostensibly
to fete the ambassadors. Under this pretext, they enticed them from the
inhabited parts of the country into a dense forest, and feasted them
three days. On the fourth they assembled to eat beneath a large sapote
tree, and the last act of the feast was to cut the throats of the
ambassadors, sparing but one, whom they charged to inform Tutul Xiu of
their reception of his embassy, and to reproach him with his cowardice;
but though they spared the life of this one, they put out his eyes with
an arrow, and sent him, under the charge of four captains, to the
territory of Tutul Xiu, where they left him and returned to their own
country.
Such were the unfortunate circumstances under which Mani became known
to the Spaniards. It was the first interior town that submitted to
their power, and by referring to the map, the reader will see that
after our long, irregular, and devious route, we are at this moment but
four leagues from Ticul, and but eleven from Uxmal by the road of the
country, while the distance is much less in a straight line.
Among the wonders unfolded by the discovery of these ruined cities,
what made the strongest impression on our minds was the fact that their
immense population existed in a region so scantily supplied with water.
Throughout the whole country there is no stream, or spring, or living
fountain, and, but for the extraordinary caves and hollows in the rocks
from which the inhabitants at this day drink, they must have been
entirely dependant upon artificial fountains, and literally upon the
rain that came down from heaven. But on this point there is one
important consideration. The aborigines of this country had no horses
or cattle, or large domestic animals, and the supply required for the
use of man only was comparatively small. Perhaps at this day, with
different wants and habits, the same country would not support the same
amount of population. And, besides, the Indian now inhabiting that dry
and thirsty region illustrates the effect of continual scarcity, habit,
and training, in subduing the appetites. Water is to him, as to the
Arab of the Desert, a scarce and precious commodity. When he puts down
the load from his back, his body streaming with perspiration, a few
sips of water dipped up in the palm of his hand from a hollow rock
suffice to quench his thirst. Still, under any circumstances, the
sources of supply present one of the most interesting features
connected with the discovery of these ruined cities, and go to confirm
belief in the vast numbers and power, as well as the laborious industry
of the ancient inhabitants.
It was late on Saturday afternoon when we reached Mani. The guarda of
Indians had served their term of a week in attendance at the casa real,
and were now retiring from office, as usual all intoxicated, but we got
a large room swept out, had it furnished with chairs and tables, and
our hammocks hung up; and here, amid the wrecks of cities, we were
almost in ruins ourselves. Before resorting to our hammocks we made an
important and touching discovery, which was that we had but one clean
camisa between us; and if the reader knew the extent of our travelling
wardrobe, he would, perhaps, be somewhat astonished that we had that.
Nevertheless, the discovery perplexed us. The next day was Sunday; all
the village would appear in clean clothes; it was mortifying that we
could not do so too, and, besides, we had some little feeling on the
score of personal comfort. In Europe, with a frock-coat buttoned tight
across the breast, black stock, and one pair of pantaloons, hat, and
boots, the traveller is independent of the world, but not so under the
hot sun of Yucatan. We sent Albino out to look for supplies, but he
returned unsuccessful, though he did succeed in making a bargain with a
woman to wash an entire change for us the next day; but she could
hardly be made to understand that stockings and sheets were included in
a change.